


We will become silhouettes

by orphan_account



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:42:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let's get away. Not for today, not just until tomorrow, but forever."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We will become silhouettes

The first time they kiss, it's on a Sunday. Sundays have always been James' favourite kind of days. In his memory, Sundays are filled with hockey games, free time and a lot of xbox games. 

That's what they meant until they moved to L.A. From that point on Sundays were filled with harmonies and pool parties and demos. 

That is, until Sundays turn into the day Kendall kissed him. Now it's Kendall's day. Sunday's the day Kendall pressed his mouth to his with such brute force he could feel teeth breaking through his lip and taste his blood on his tongue. Sunday's the day when Kendall leaned his forehead against James', gaze glued to James' mouth while their noses touched and James felt as if he couldn't breathe any more. 

And it was amazing. And breathtaking. Everything he never thought he'd find beneath the unforgiving glare of the L.A. sun; and it scared him shitless. Because this boy, this stupid, absurd boy with his gilded hair shimmering like firecrowns and voice that would etch the words he spoke into the worn-out strings of his heart, actually showed him James wasn't alone in this. In this mess of feelings and emotions and hormones that made him look at his best friend with a little more than adoration. 

Up until then, it was an unhealthy infatuation. A stupid side-effect of spending too much time together in too little spaces. But then he kissed him.

And it all went to shit. 

Because Kendall grinned afterwards, all cocksure and overbearing. But before James could even voice a question, he was already out the door. Leaving James alone with his thoughts somersaulting and collapsing. 

 

They never talked about it. Not once. Not even when there were suddenly rumours all over the Palmwoods of Kendall being gay and it was even threatening to kill the reputation of Big Time Rush. 

 

Kendall just leaves it there, up until the moment even James isn't sure anymore if it really happened. Maybe his mind just conjured it up, visions of Kendall's lips on his and his desperate longing leading to him not being able to distinguish between dream and reality. The line that separates real and fake all shadowy and blurry.  
With Kendall the lines have always been blurred anyway.

It's not until he kisses him again that he realises it hasn't been a dream. It was real. It was real and it is real. It's real when Kendall suddenly cups his cheek and leans forward, the cruel smile still adorning his face and god, it feels so wrong. So very, very wrong. 

"Don't," James whispers as their foreheads touch. 

But in his imagination Kendall can read minds. And James can't help but think _please_. _Please_. 

And fuck. To James, it's like Kendall is giving in, not him.

 

 

"And I don't want this! I don't want to sit there and think of your name whenever some hipster singer half-whispers the word love into his microphone. I mean, you're not even that nice to look at." 

Kendall cocks his eyebrow at that statement, cocksure smile finally slipping, but before he can answer, James adds, "And it's ridiculous, because I just want to cover you in hickeys and lovebites and have my hands all over you because, god, you don't even know what effect you have on people, do you?"

And no, Kendall doesn't. He doesn't know how he changes people, how every one of them looks up to him. He's their leader, their chief of command. And James would follow, no matter what it takes. He would follow and go down with this supernova of a boy.   
But Kendall would also expect him to, it's what he's used to. He's used to adoration and guiding his friends to whatever destination he has in mind next. Even if it's off the edge of a cliff or high speed against the wall. He's oblivious to the fact that it isn't normal. 

He's also pretty oblivious to acknowledging that whatever James feels for him, is also a lot more than that. 

It's not just adoration, not just admiration, fuck, it's more than that. It's love. Pure, cold, harsh love. And love, fuck love, it's a menace. It breaks people in the hardest way possible, leaves them on the verge of breaking down and seeps into their lives like leaks on high sea; filling every crack and every hole. Gold and silverlining hearts and bones, leaving their ribcages to break underneath the weight of noble metals. 

And James has been in love ever since he first met him, and god, he just can't stop.   
It's pathetic and unnerving and downright heartbreaking, but he just doesn't know how to stop. 

"Why don't we go?" Kendall asks him, hand touching the protrusion of James' collarbone, thumb stroking the sunkissed skin that stretched taut over his bones. The simple act of skin brushing against skin shouldn't hit him that hard, but it does. Avalanches and volcanoes erupting, all leading to him wanting to say yes. Yes. Anything. Anything for Kendall, just like always.

"What do you mean?"

"We could just go. Leave it all behind. And not just for now. Not until tomorrow. But forever." 

James didn't really know what to say, because Kendall. Kendall wanted to leave with him. And in his head he had these visions, visions of teeth on his neck and fogged car windows. Living for the day on the yellow lines that map out north america and the highway stretching into forever. 

"We can't leave forever, Kendall. And you know it."   
  
Kendall looks at him and smiles, "But we can leave for now." 

 

 

And James thinks this is it. This is it. Sand beneath his feet and this improbable, whirlwind of a boy next to him, skin glimmering with sea water in the faint light. Kendall's knees are all battered and bruised, shimmering blackblueyellow, mirroring the state of his own youthfilled, capricious, stupid heart. He wants to conquer it, etch his signature into the tissue of his heartstrings, his very heart. But he can't. Not permanently.

But as their lips meet once again; the salt stinging on his mouth and tongue, he realises, this will have to be enough. 


End file.
